


A Time Apart

by GodzillaDez



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Flashbacks, Season 2, Shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodzillaDez/pseuds/GodzillaDez





	1. Mama Griffin and Daddy Blake

                He almost doesn’t see it. The way her eyes dance across the 100 like they’re her children. Well, the 99. She doesn’t see herself as fragile, and he doesn’t think she ever even looks at him. But one day, after the biggest fight they’ve had, a fight that almost blew the half built wall over, he sees it. She’s so angry that those blue eyes are comically large and her lips are pursed so tight he’s sure they’re going to draw in on themselves and swallow her whole. He hopes they’ll swallow her whole. It would be a moment of silence if they did. But, while he’s shouting at her about how idiotic it is to go wandering around on the outside of the wall without a god damn escort, he sees those comically huge blue eyes dance away from his and sweep across the crowd gathered round them.

                She said through gritted teeth, “We should take this out of the middle of the camp, Bellamy.”

                “Why, Princess? Afraid to let people see you get mad?” He taunted, looking around at his-their people. “Afraid to shake off your composure.”

                “No,” she hissed, “I’m afraid I’ll kill you in front of this group and scare them worse than they already are.”

                “You wouldn’t dare try anything.”

                She raised her hand and jabbed him in the chest with her freakishly sharp pointer finger. She spat out two words, accentuating them with a hard stab to his chest. “Bet. Me.”

                “Fine then, princess,” he snarled. He bent forward and Clarke stared in surprise in the second it took him to shove his shoulder into her stomach and rise again, throwing her over his shoulder. His arm looped around the backs of her thighs, just above her knees and he cried out, “I’m going to give the princess a spanking. Get back to work!”

                Clarke hit his back as hard as she could while he carried her away from the prying eyes of the other 100. By the time he got her to his tent, he was sure he even had bite marks up and down the flesh. He put her on her feet and growled, “Lucky Spacewalker wasn’t out there for that. I can’t deal with two belligerent idiots right now.”

                “You’re the one being an idiot! I was barely outside the wall!”

                “It’s still outside the wall! Do you want to die? Because, as easy as it would be for me to accept, we kind of need the healer around.”

                “And we definitely need to watch our fighting around them. We’re their leaders, and they are kids!”

                “You’re barely older than them!”

                “I was the closest to eighteen when we were sent down here! We’ve been down here, what, two weeks? Two and a half? Do you know what that means? In a week and a half, I’ll be eighteen, Bellamy. So shove that up your ass!”

                He was taken aback, both by the reminder that she was nearly his equal in age, and by the curse that slid past her lips. He stared down at her for a second and then let his face settle into its usual smirk. “Fine, princess. No more leaving the gates without an escort, and we won’t fight in front of the children anymore.”

                “Good.” She nodded curtly, spun on her heel, and stomped away, leaving Bellamy alone in her tent.

 

_He’d kill to have her there with him. Her and all of their “children.” He’d always pretended not to notice that the rest of the 100 (except Octavia and Finn) called them “mom and dad.” Not because it bothered him, but because it was easier to seem intimidating if the rest of them didn’t know that he liked being the head of the family. One of the heads of the family. Because if he thought Clarke wasn’t just as equal as he was, he was a damn fool._

_He looked down at the handcuffs so tight on his wrist that they would leave more marks than the wristbands on the 100 when they’d first landed. He needed her there with him, not out there with God knows what. He needed her to tell Kane that he wasn’t a bad guy. He needed her to tell Kane that Murphy deserved to get his ass kicked, that Murphy deserved much worse than a solid ass kicking. He just needed her._

_“Bellamy,” Finn’s voice was a whisper through the canvas blocking the door. They didn’t even bother assigning him a guard. They were too busy running around like headless chickens to stop and realize they had 4 of the 100, a stowaway criminal, and a love stricken rebel that had survived the ground for months and could very easily give them advice. But they weren’t looking to Murphy, Bellamy, Finn, or the two kids in the woods, and he doubted Raven could answer very many questions while she was in her condition._

_“What, Finn?” Bellamy’s voice rarely rose above growl and talking to Spacewalker didn’t entice him into a reasonable volume._

_“Do you think she’s dead?”_

_The question froze the blood in Bellamy’s veins. There didn’t have to be an explanation of who “she” was. Finn wouldn’t ask about Octavia. Finn wouldn’t care about his sister’s life. It was only Clarke that would do that, and it was only Clarke that Finn was asking about._

_“I think she’s too damn stubborn to die,” Bellamy bit out, trying to ignore the pain that bloomed heavy and sharp in his chest._


	2. Birthdays and Bandaids

                Her eighteenth birthday started with some idiot kid falling off the top of the shuttle where he was trying to prove how brave he was, and breaking his arm upon impact with the ground. She woke up to screams outside of the drop ship. Sharp, shrieks that filled her with unbridled panic. Clarke jumped out of the furs given to her as a gift from the co-leader and yanked her pants on, tearing the rip in the knee just a little bit more than it had been the day before. But she didn’t have time to think about that before she was rushing out the door to save the kid that Bellamy was standing over, rolling his muddy brown eyes. The first thing Bellamy said to her was, “I ought to tell you not to treat him at all. The fucking idiot did this on his own.”

                “He’s going to be treated, the same as everybody else,” Clarke replied just as harshly. “Now help me get him into the drop ship. I need you to hold him still while I reset the break.”

                Bellamy reached down and grabbed the boy’s uninjured yard and yanked him to a standing position, ignoring the gasp as pain radiated down the kid’s body. She growled, “Bellamy, would you mind being a little more careful!? He just fell 15 feet to the ground.”

                “Because of his own stupidity,” Bellamy said plainly. “Now come on. We can get him patched up and then we can go gather some more of your damn herbs you’ve been nagging me about all week.”

                She glared at him but they’d agreed not to argue in front of the 100 anymore, and it was an agreement they’d kept. She followed him into the drop ship, making sure he wasn’t going to dump the boy on the table and leave. Bellamy had changed, he’d softened, been molded during their time on the ground. Or maybe he’d always been soft and he was just a pro at faking it.

                Clarke busied herself with preparing the splints cut from the thinner pieces of the trees being used to build the wall. The wall would protect them, and heal them. She smiled as she picked through the strips of fabric for ones that didn’t have to be used for cuts. It was only right that their earth home was giving something back to them.

                “Okay…what’s your name, kiddo?” Clarke’s voice was soft and reassuring and the boy looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and hope that it wasn’t as bad as it felt. Bellamy tried to hide his smile with a grimace.

                “M…Max,” he stuttered. “Is this going to hurt?”

                “Just a little, Max. Let go of that arm and let me see if I was right in what I was thinking earlier.” Clarke focused her attention on the arm Max was slowly releasing, but jerked her eyes up to Bellamy quickly and nodded. He took his spot behind Max and Clarke kept talking. “Yep. That bump there is where your bone is sticking out a little. Here. Chew on this.”

                Clarke handed him the anesthetic herb they’d found by accident when Monty had numbed half his body. As soon as Max started chewing, Clarke took his arm gently and began inspecting it carefully, running her fingers over the skin lightly, then harder and harder until she was sure Max couldn’t feel it on the surface. Then, without raising her eyes to Bellamy’s, she nodded and Bellamy grabbed Max’s shoulders while Clarke shoved the bone back in place, wincing at the howl that came from the boy. She worked the splint quickly, ordering Bellamy to “hold this in place,” “keep your hand here,” and “for god’s sake, Bellamy, stop letting him move!” She knew she was trying his patience, and she knew he’d listen to her as well.

                “Okay, Max. You’re going to be splinted up for the next few weeks. Go lay down for a while, okay? Get some rest. And no more stupid stunts,” Clarke scolded.

                “If I catch you doing something like that again to impress girls, you’re on half rations for two weeks!” Bellamy tacked onto the end, playing right into the ‘mom and dad’ scene the rest of the 100 had going.

                Max nodded and jumped down off the table to stagger off, leaving Clarke and Bellamy glaring at each other. As soon as she was sure Max was out of earshot, she growled, “Do you have to be so hard on him?”

                “We need everybody we can to defend the camp and he’s doing stupid shit to impress girls.”   

                “Like you’ve never done stupid shit to impress girls,” Clarke snorted. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the swagger perfected.”

                “Been watching me, princess? I’ve never let royalty into my bed, but I could be convinced.” Bellamy smirked and quirked one eyebrow, challenging her to back down.

                “You’d have to wash those sheets a thousand times before I’d slide beneath them,” she hissed.

                “I’ll get to washing then, Princess. For now, come on. You’re running low on all the shit you blow away whenever you’re treating scratches.”

                She rolled her eyes but followed him out of the drop ship and out of the camp, letting him pause to grab his rifle and toss her one of the knives. She followed him out into the woods and into the silent peace of the woods. Bellamy slowed down to walk beside her and she pretended not to notice him watching her while she looked at the trees and listened to the birds among them. When they reached the clearing where she gathered the healing plants, there was already a bag sitting in the middle of the clearing, stuffed full. Clarke turned to stare at Bellamy and caught his steady smirk.

                “Happy birthday, Princess,” Bellamy smiled.

                “For my birthday, you gathered herbs, the thing we all needed anyway?” Clarke refused to be impressed.

                Bellamy’s smirk faded into a sneer and she was almost sorry to see it go, but he continued anyway, “No, for your birthday I came out here at the ass crack of dawn to gather the damn herbs you needed so you would have an excuse to sneak away to the hot springs I found and so that you’d have somebody guarding your back while you took a bath. I thought you’d want one since you smell like Monty’s ass crack.”

                “Oh.” Clarke could feel the blood rushing to her face the instant Bellamy’s lips closed around the last word. “Well. Thank you.”

                “There’s some gratitude, princess. Come on. It’s up this way.”

                Clarke could see the smirk on his face when he turned and started leading her away. She scooped up the bag of herbs and carried it for a few minutes before Bellamy glanced back and noticed what she was doing. He gave an exaggerated sigh and slowed down so he could snag it off of her shoulder and slip it onto his own. They walked side by side to the hot springs and Bellamy dropped the bag on the ground and nodded at the water in front of them expectantly. To which Clarke just stared at him pointedly.

                “We don’t have all day, princess. Even on your birthday, you only get an hour or two away from camp,” Bellamy prodded her.

                “Well turn around then!” she replied.

                “Oh. It’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen.” But he did turn around.

                “The parts may be the same, but the fact is that they are mine,” Clarke grumbled, even as she kicked off her shoes and took off her shirt. “And you haven’t seen mine.”

                “Was that an invitation, princess?” Bellamy scoffed.

                “Try anything and I’ll be carrying your head back in my bag of herbs, Bellamy Augustine Blake,” Clarke warned.

                “I’m going to kill Octavia.”

                Clarke finished wriggling out of her clothes and rushed forward into the heated water, sighing at the warmth and the feeling of being cleaned. After a moment in the water, she was even able to pretend Bellamy wasn’t there and float on her back, still wary of things moving beneath the water. Everybody else seemed to forget the thing that took a chunk out of Octavia’s leg, but Clarke could never forget the giant gar. The thought of it made her shiver and she moved a little closer to the bank.

                “Getting out already, princess? Tell me I didn’t spend an hour picking flowers just so you could swim for five minutes,” Bellamy called over his shoulder.

                “I’m just making sure there’s nothing in here with me,” she growled, glaring daggers at his back.

                “Good call. Just because you’re the princess, doesn’t mean I’m going to be your knight in shining armor. Saving your ass one time was more than enough.”

                “I remember saving yours too, asshole,” Clarke snipes back, but she still smiles because she knows Bellamy wouldn’t let her die. As much as she’s a pain his ass, he needs her around, which is why she thinks he lets her rest for half an hour before he calls out again, “Are you even washing any dirt off of you or are you just sitting there? I used to tell Octavia that water doesn’t push off dirt. You have to work at it a little.”

                “I thought this was **my** birthday present, Bellamy,” Clarke retorted, finally pulling herself out of the floating position and starting to scrub away at the dirt that still lingered on her arms. She couldn’t tell how much of it was the blood of all the kids who’d crossed her “office” floor.

                “Can’t have you getting used to the high life. Next thing we know, you’ll be demanding extra rations and telling us we can’t breathe your oxygen. Fine line, princess.” But she could hear the smirk in his voice, so she let it go, knowing that Bellamy, for the first time since she’d met him, had done something nice for somebody other than Octavia.

                “I’ll start with you,” she teased. “I’m taking your rations and there will be no more breathing within five feet of me.”

                “Well damn, I thought I’d finally be able to after you washed the stench off yourself.”

                For that, she flicked water at him and he cussed and stepped forward a few feet to get out of the range. They walked back to the camp closer to each other, her carrying the bag of herbs that time. 

               

_The bed was too soft for Clarke’s liking. She knew Bellamy would have laughed at it, called her a princess, and asked her when they were getting out of there. He would have tugged at her hair on the way out of the shower and asked her if the stay was to her liking. He would have sneered at the President when he told them not to wander around. He would have whipped the rest of the 48 into shape and out the doors, because he knew it was better to live free than to live back on the Ark. But Bellamy wasn’t there._

_“You’re doing that thing with your face again.” Miller had been Bellamy’s second. She didn’t know when that had faded. When Miller had gotten so used to the living that he’d given up. How long was she stuck in quarantine when the rest of her people were in surgery, or up wandering around._

_“Thinking about what Bellamy would be doing right now,” she admitted._

_“He’d be ruling this place,” Miller answered honestly. “They’d never let Bellamy stay. They’d never let Bellamy **in.** ” _

_Clarke chuckled, knowing it was the truth. The rebel leader of the pack wouldn’t have survived a minute in the mountain. She could see him now, pacing like a caged tiger. No, a panther. With his dark hair and dark eyes, he was the beast. She’d seen a video once of a freshly caught tiger in a cage. It paced back and forth, roaring at everyone who could hear and swiping its massive paw between the bars. She could see Bellamy, reaching out to swat anybody who got near him. He’d have never survived quarantine._

_They said he didn’t even survive the Grounder fight. That they hadn’t found him. They hadn’t had time to sort through the bodies. Finn and Raven and Bellamy were just gone. But that couldn’t be true. Raven was weak, but she could have made it. Finn wasn’t suited for the fighting, but he could have been out of the blast zone. And Bellamy, Bellamy would never have gone down like that._

_“I don’t think Bellamy’s ever asked anyone for permission a day in his life,” Clarke laughed, the first laugh since they’d caged her. But Miller’s face grew stony and suspicious._

_“Don’t talk about them like they’re alive here,” he warned her. “You don’t know what they’ll do to an ungrateful guest. You’re going to get us all sent back out there.”_

_Clarke stared at him, the laugh falling off of her lips. She said solemnly, “Whether I’m ungrateful or not, whether they send me back out there or not, Bellamy Blake, Finn Collins, and Raven Reyes are not dead.”_

_“Yeah, and you’re not delusional.” Miller walked away._


	3. Muddy Boots

                “Hey, stupid, wake up.” Clarke’s boots were muddy. They were always muddy but that never bothered him until he cracked his eyes open and looked down to see them leaving footprints on the floor of his tent.

                “Why the hell are you wearing those in my tent?” Bellamy growled.

                “Because it’s cold outside and I am going to go hiking today to the bunker to scavenge any leftover supplies.”

                “And…?” Bellamy growled, looking up through the canvas of the tent and taking note of the fact that it was still dark outside.

                “And you’re supposed to come with me, you complete ass.” Clarke reached over and poked him through the blankets, right in the center of his back.

                “Don’t you think there’s a damn good reason I take my boots off outside the tent?” He continued on his fixation with boots.

                “Because you’re the one who’s actually the princess?” Clarke guessed.

                “Because I don’t want whatever shit is on your boots on my floor.” Bellamy finally opened his eyes all the way and glared up at Clarke, who was standing with her hip jutted out and her arms crossed over her chest. The usual “Do what I’m telling you or there will be Hell to pay” look painted across her face.

                “Oh my god, Bellamy, I live in the drop ship! If I can deal with that, you can deal with this.”

                “Exactly! You live in the drop ship,” Bellamy mimicked. “I know how much blood is on the floor in there. Now, not only is there dirt and probably shit on the floor, there’s blood. Thank you, princess.”

                “Fine!” Clarke bent over and unlaced her boots quickly, pulling her feet out of them and throwing them towards the flap. She said victoriously, “There! Now get up out of bed and come on! We have stuff to do today! Miller and Monroe are already up and working. You should be too. Let’s go!”

                “Well, princess,” Bellamy smirked, knowing just how to make her regret her shouting, “I’d love to just jump up out of this bed and make you turn as red as the blood on your boots, but I don’t wear as many clothes to bed as you do. So I’d get out of here before you get that eyeful I see you always thinking about.”

                Her mouth opened and closed like a fish grasping for something to bite onto. A comeback, a denial, a retort. Anything. But it was clear that she couldn’t find the words and Bellamy laughed smugly. Finally, she spun on her heel and started towards the flap. He called to her retreating back, “Don’t forget your boots, princess!”

 

_There was only dirt where they had him. It was disgusting, and he wasn’t allowed to complain. Murphy was zip tied a little ways away from him and Bellamy wanted to break the tie, wander over, and tear him apart. Mix the blood in with the dirt, make it look like the floor of Clarke’s “doctor’s office.” He gritted his teeth and tightened his hands together, knowing they wouldn’t let him out if he kept lunging at Murphy every time they put the killer near him._

_He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of things that didn’t make him want to tear Murphy into shreds. The way Octavia looked the first time he ever brought a book to the room to teach her how to read. The way she laughed when he made up stories about dragons living in the air vents, and that’s why it was sometimes hotter than normal in the arc. The way Clarke looked when she was thanking him for his birthday present. The way Octavia and Clarke ran the camp and the 100._

_It wasn’t working. The thoughts of the two of them together, Clarke and Octavia, only made it worse._

_“Come on, Bellamy.” He opened my eyes to the Spacewalker cutting through the tie on his wrists and he couldn’t hide the grin. We were leaving._


	4. Bellamy Blake the Cuddler

                The mornings were the roughest. Being pulled out of sleep by a shout or a scream or a gunshot. Or, in the case of the cold morning, a fight. Clarke rolled out of the sleeping bag and yanked on her jacket quickly. She nearly fell climbing down and out, stumbling into the dirt of the camp with the early morning sun nearly blinding her. She was greeted by Bellamy holding two girls at arm’s length while they struggled to get back to one another. Bellamy caught her glance and roared, “Will somebody fucking help me already?”

                Jasper grabbed at one girl and Miller rushed forward to grab at the other, sparing Clarke from getting the shit kicked out of her. She stepped forward anyway and demanded in a hoarse, sleep filled voice, “What is going on?”

                “She started it!” One of the girls shrieked. Angel, maybe. Clarke wasn’t sure.

                “She was talking to Cody this morning! They were practically making out!” The other girl screeched. Vanessa.

                “This is over another god damn relationship?” Bellamy snarled. “The two of you were fighting over some guy who probably is just stringing you along because he can’t make up his damn mind.”

                That stung Clarke just a little and she saw Finn shrink away from where he was standing on the sidelines. Until a voice from the crowd shouted, “Cody is a girl!”

                “Oh.” Bellamy’s face went blank for just a second, signaling to Clarke, and the crowd, that it was time for her to take over. She slipped beside Bellamy and demanded, “You were fighting over a relationship? You were going to harm each other, and potentially cost this camp more supplies and time, over a relationship? Do you understand how silly you were being? Do you understand how irresponsible you were being, putting a relationship over your survival? Girls, this is just ridiculous.”

                They both knew enough to look at the ground. Vanessa grumbled, “It isn’t fair. I love Cody.”

                “Well did you even talk to Cody about this?” Clarke lectured. “Or did you just walk on over and start hitting somebody? Damn it, you’re not allowed to act like idiots! This is unacceptable.”

                “Are you going to banish us?” Angel’s voice was filled with fear and Clarke’s face softened while Bellamy’s hardened.

                “We don’t banish people for stupidity,” he backed Clarke up before she could let them go without any punishment. “But there are consequences. Vanessa, you’re going to spend the day and night in the dropship.”

                “But Cody…” Vanessa started to interrupt but Clarke and Bellamy cut her off with matching devil glares.

                “Angel, you are going to tell Cody that you are not interested and you’re on guard duty with Miller today.”

                “I didn’t even do anything!” she protested.

                “Anybody who participates in any kind of fighting within the camp will be punished. Self defense lessons are mandatory from now on!” Bellamy announced, his voice booming and angry. “Now get back to work!”

                He looked down at Clarke and asked, “Is the top of the ship okay?”

                Still rubbing sleep from her eyes, she answered thoughtlessly, “Yeah. I’ll be in the bottom today anyway and everything is locked up. There’s nothing she can destroy up there.”

                “Thank you.”

                He took Vanessa to the drop ship and Clarke went to find food or anything that would wake her up for a few minutes. Then, the bustle of the day took over and Clarke moved between the walls and healing people and preparing medicine and arguing with Bellamy. She stumbled into the drop ship later that night, made her way to the ladder to the hatch, and froze at Bellamy’s scrawl on the hatch door. “7:30.” That was Vanessa’s release time. Clarke cussed under her breath and stumbled away from the door. She made her way over to the table and climbed atop it, not caring that she didn’t have a blanket. Too tired to care, she curled herself into a ball, and closed her eyes.

                Until she heard the footsteps and Bellamy’s voice hissed, “What are you doing, princess?”

                “Sleeping. Go away.”

                “You’re on the table.” Bellamy continued talking, testing her patience with every word.

                “I’m aware. Go away,” she repeated.

                “Why are you on the table? This isn’t where you always sleep.”

                Clarke sat up quickly and turned her eyes on him, challenging him. She snapped, “Why do you know where I always sleep, Bellamy Blake?”

                “Because I’m damn good at doing rounds,” he retorted. “Why are you sleeping on the table?”

                “Because we gave my usual sleeping place to a rule breaker as a punishment,” Clarke sighed. “And she has my only sleeping bag. So I’m here.”

                “No.”

                “Bellamy, just let me sleep,” she whined.

                “Well you’re definitely not sleeping here. Come on.”

                “Bellamy, I don’t have time to scoot people over in their tents and fight about arrangements. I want to go to sleep.” Her voice caught in her throat and his face softened. She was so tired she was close to tears.

                “You’re not going to have to fight anybody. Come on, princess. I have a place you can stay.”

                “Bellamy,” she dragged out his name in a long whine and he crossed the floor in two long strides, cutting her off by sweeping her off the table and over his shoulder in the fireman’s carry he did just to piss her off.

                “Shush, you’re going to wake the children,” he warned as he carried her out of the drop ship and across the camp. His face set in a determined line that didn’t allow anybody to question him when they crossed his path. He made his way to his tent and sat her down sturdily outside the flap.

                “There you go.” He gestured towards it, leaving Clarke staring at him in disbelief. “Take your boots off and go to bed.”

                “This is your tent.” She hated the way her voice was so thick and slow.

                “Yes, it is, princess. Go to bed.”

                “Where are you going to sleep?”

                “In there.” Before Bellamy could continue further, Clarke’s eyes widened and her body stiffened.

                “Listen here, Bellamy Blake, I am not one of your damn conquests that you can just pick up and drag off because you’re feeling particularly horny. I told you that I’m not climbing into that bed…”

                “Until my sheets were washed a thousand times?” Bellamy cut her off and supplied with half a sigh, half a chuckle. “Well I’ve washed them a couple times since then. Now go to bed. I’m not going to have sex with you, princess. It takes a little more foreplay than looking exhausted and covered in grime. I’ll be respectful. My bed’s big enough for two. Hell, I’ve had three in it before. I think four once when we were all drinking Monty’s moonshine.”

                “I hate you,” she sneered half-heartedly.

                “Go to bed, Clarke. I’ll be in in a couple hours. You won’t even know I’m there.”

                She didn’t say that she doubted that, but she huffed and slid her boots off and fell asleep the second she slipped between the furs lining Bellamy’s bed. She woke up a little when Bellamy slid into bed and lay on his back next to her, and then again when his body curled around hers and she groaned and he murmured, “If you tell anybody I’m a cuddler, I’m selling you to the Grounders to make a peace treaty.”

                And she almost thought she dreamt it all, but he was there in the morning, half sprawled across her and the bed with his face curled into her neck and his breathing hot and heavy on her. She climbed out of bed before him, surprised that she woke before he did and pulled her boots back on before she went to release Vanessa from the drop ship. They didn’t talk about it, but maybe they could have one day.

 

_The beds in the mountain were too comfortable and the blankets were silken on the places her skin was exposed. There were too many breaths around her when she was in the bunk room, and not enough whenever they stuck her back in quarantine. There was no rhythm. She was supposed to just calm down at night without anyone telling her to. She was supposed to climb into bed and pretend that there wasn’t a world outside the mountains and secrets that were being kept._

_She wished for Bellamy and Finn and Raven every day. Raven out of need for somebody to help her take things apart and to laugh when she said they were going to get into trouble. Bellamy to have the support she needed. She could hear him say it. “No shit there’s something wrong, princess. These people are keeping secrets and we need to know what they are.” And Finn out of guilt and for somebody to bring balance to the three hot heads that would blow up the world all over again if it meant protecting their families. The fallen star, the rebel leader, and the princess._

_She rolled in the bed, wrapping her leg around the blanket and trying to situate herself to get comfortable once again. In the camp, if she couldn’t sleep, she could wander around. She could walk the walls, find Miller laughing with Monroe and ask them what they were talking about. They usually didn’t tell her, or they gave her terrible answers, but that was okay. Sometimes she could find Raven still working and send her to bed, or find one of the 100 whimpering in their sleep and calm them with a hand on their forehead and gently whispered words. And sometimes, Bellamy found her as he walked through the fog and his eyebrows would pull together and he would send her to bed with a roll of his eyes, asking her what the hell she thought she was doing up so late._

_But the mountain was not a place to wander. The mountain was a place to escape from._


End file.
